I want fate to touch My crowning breath, To blister in its fever As it traces crimson Around naked necks. It’s a vibrant sensation, Echoing the shade of dusk Throughout my bones Until they are reduced To Georgia Red Clay.
I want fate to touch My crowning breath, To blister in its fever As it traces crimson Around naked necks. It’s a vibrant sensation, Echoing the shade of dusk Throughout my bones Until they are reduced To Georgia Red Clay.